


a little help from my friends

by sleepinnude



Series: Imagining You'd Care [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, mentions of Sam Evans/Quinn Fabray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Sam finishes, with just as much hesitation in his voice, “We could, like… help each other out?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little help from my friends

"Dude, we could, like…” Puck lets the sentence hang because he’s not sure how Sam would react. Sure, Puck had his suspicions; they all did about Sam when he first transferred and joined Glee. Especially considering all the stuff the did-or-didn’t happen with Kurt. But still, you had to be careful with that sort of stuff.

Sam gives him an odd look, propping himself up on his elbows. He was sprawled over Puck’s bed from where he had flopped down with a groan and started in on his lament of dating what had to be the only girl in high school not putting out. Puck had been sympathetic but there was always that lingering knowledge that Puck had been the one to get Quinn to put out. And that wasn’t something he was necessarily proud of (at least, not in the same way he was usually proud of getting girls to give it up) but it was still there. 

And this is something he has been thinking on for awhile. Because he isn’t getting any and Sam isn’t getting any… Well, why can’t they get some from each other, right? But Sam is still just looking at him and not saying anything and Puck is about to say something else, throw Sam off his scent. But then Sam sits up entirely and turns to face Puck where he’s propped up against his headboard. And Sam finishes, with just as much hesitation in his voice, “We could, like… help each other out?”

Puck sort of smirks over at him, tried to hide the fact that every molecule inside of him is thrumming with nerves. “Yeah. Why not, right? I mean, fuck, not like I’m gay. Not like you’re gay. It would just be two dudes-“

“-helping each other,” Sam repeats. And Puck nods once and swallows thickly but Sam’s eyes are on his lap. There’s a long moment where Puck tries to resist fidgeting, waiting for Sam to say something, anything. And then he does. Sam looks up, and he’s grinning, and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be cool. We could… Just two dudes, right?”

Puck smirks and nods. “Exactly.” And he’s sitting up, shifting forward, and with Doesn’t mean anything pounding a mantra in his mind, kissing Sam. It’s a little awkward at first. Sort of elementary and tasting like seventh grade games of Spin the Bottle. But then Sam rocks up and is kissing Puck from above and moving his lips and then there’s a tongue touching his and something like electricity rockets through him, straight to his groin. 

Sam’s hands are twitching nervously near Puck’s ribs but Puck wastes no time. He grips into Sam’s shirt, pulling him in close and kissing with earnest. Sam sighs out through his nose and they inhale together breaking the kiss for a wet noise before fitting back together. Apprehension gone, they press together. Puck’s strong hands tighten in Sam’s clothes while Sam grips at Puck’s shoulders. 

It’s not long before Puck starts tugging on Sam’s tee. He breaks the kiss to yank it off, catching sight of the blush that’s risen to Sam’s cheek. Fingers skimming down Sam’s chest and abs, his hands eventually find rest over Sam’s ass, pulling in and locking their hips together. He doesn’t expect the groan that takes from Sam’s lungs, the way he slumps over Puck, presses his face into his neck and jerks his hips up.

Puck responds in turn, moving his hips, and Sam groans again, ending it by sucking a kiss to Puck’s neck. Puck lays him out then, flipping Sam so he’s on his back, and works at his jeans. He doesn’t bother with buttons or zippers, just gives a sharp pull to get them down far enough, already mouthing over the hard line of Sam’s erection through his boxers. Sam moans and huffs out curses, burying his face into the pillow as best he can. 

It should be weird, because they’re two guys and two friends and both of them pretty solidly like girls. But it’s not. It’s just sex, nothing more, just two dudes helping each other out and it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Sam’s hands fist the sheets. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Puck strokes at the inside of Sam’s thigh when he swallows around the head of his dick. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Sam whines Puck’s name right before he comes. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Puck swallows and keeps sucking even after Sam finishes. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Sam grapples at Puck’s shoulders, tugging him up his body and into a kiss. 

They kiss long and lazy for a moment, Puck fully-clothed and still hard, draped over a mostly-naked and spent Sam. They kiss and touch and eventually Puck’s clothing finds the floor, along with the rest of Sam’s. 

Sam settles back into himself after the post-orgasm haze and gradually shifts their positions, so that Puck is on his back and Sam is hovering over him. He wraps a hand around Puck’s cock, listening to the catch in Puck’s breath, the nearly-missed “yeah,” that drops from his kiss-bitten lips. Sam moves slow at first, pulling long strokes over Puck and hearing the boy beneath him lose himself more and more. Puck is muttering all sorts of things under his breath, promises of what he’ll do to Sam, for him, blasphemies and prayers and at the end, “fuck. yeah, no, close. real close, Sammy.” Neither of them knows what prompts the nickname but it stays in the air caught between their bodies as Puck comes over his stomach and Sam’s hand.

Puck is just breathing and possibly shaking a little when he watches with curiosity as Sam leans down and licks a stripe up his stomach, through his come. He groans at that, head falling back, and gets lost in the feel of Sam’s tongue dragging over his skin.

He’s near dozing off when the bed shifts and he opens his eyes to Sam flopping down next to him, blonde hair sticking to his temples and forehead and cheeks flushed. “That was good,” Puck admits with a drowsy tongue. Sam chuckles next to him and just nods, eyes off to the side shyly. Those are the only words they exchange before falling into sleep, Puck turned onto his stomach and Sam on his side, curled into him. When Puck wakes a few hours later, he’s alone and Sam’s clothes are gone. But there’s a text on his phone and it should be awkward, it should be weird, but it’s not. Puck smiles and thinks that he could get used to this.


End file.
